


For the Bold Shall Inherit the Shadows

by angelsandbrowncoats



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Compliant, Character Study, Getting Together, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Not Actually Unrequited Love, POV Edward Nygma, Pining, Post-Canon, Sort Of, basically edward's thoughts during that last scene between him and oswald, ed just doesn't know it yet, this may be the first time i've ever used that tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-20
Updated: 2019-04-28
Packaged: 2020-01-22 22:49:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18537058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelsandbrowncoats/pseuds/angelsandbrowncoats
Summary: A canon compliant and post-canon compilation of Gotham stories, beginning with the final scene between Edward and Oswald in 5x11 and continuing onward. All the parts that align with canon are retold through my take on Edward's thoughts and feelings.(Formerly called "The Breaking [Knife]Point". That is now the title of the first chapter, instead)





	1. The Breaking [Knife]Point

**Author's Note:**

> I had a lot of feelings about that episode, but especially their hug at the end, so I wanted to write that scene through Ed's eyes, or at least... the way I interpret what Ed was thinking/doing. It's probably fairly rushed, but I just wanted to get something out about the episode.

They had been through so very much to be where they were now. Edward had made the choice to stay with Oswald. To risk his life because Oswald cared too much about Gotham to leave. He had lied about the submarine, of course. Yes, on the surface the submarine seemed to need two people. It was his fail-safe to ensure that Oswald wouldn’t cut him out. But, just in case  _ he _ ended up being the one to do the cutting out, there was a secret to solo piloting. And apparently Nyssa Al Ghul was smart enough to figure it out. 

 

But if Gotham was more important to Oswald than Edward was, there was no reason Oswald needed to know he was the reason Edward had stayed.

 

And then - and then there was that grenade. And Oswald had leapt in front of him when he froze up. Oswald had nearly lost an  _ eye _ saving his life. All because he just couldn’t stand to leave Oswald behind. 

 

Above all else, he needed to keep that from Oswald. He couldn't know. He couldn’t. Edward dreaded to think what he might do with the information, should he ever learn of it. Here he was, monologuing about how he would never again be that pathetic man, begging for attention, all in the hopes of getting Oswald’s attention. He spoke of bowing and permission, asserting himself as a villain over the city of Gotham, all while knowing that he would do anything to hear Oswald say those words again…

 

So, Oswald was not to know. He couldn’t allow him to gain that sort of control over him again. It was too terrifying a prospect.

 

So Edward did what he did best; put on a show. He paraded his confidence around the room, weaving a tale of his future as a villain, ever so careful to speak only of himself. He wanted Oswald to join him. Of course he did. But he needed to know that Oswald was truly on his side. He needed to know where they stood. 

 

Oswald fell for his bait in a way that he so rarely did, standing up and proclaiming, “Yes. You’re right. Our accomplishments have been erased. Our brilliant minds underrated. If they had let me run this city the way I wanted to, it would not be in ruins now. I have the men, the money,  _ the guns. _ ”

 

“Gordon took them,” Edward pushed further. He needed to see how far he could go. How much Oswald was willing to forgive before it was too much, “Why? Because he still sees you as Fish Mooney’s umbrella boy, and he always will.”

 

If nothing else, perhaps he could finally sever whatever connection Oswald and Gordon seemed to have. It irritated him to no end that no matter what he did, those two always seemed closer. Except for his far too brief time as Oswald’s Chief of Staff, he had never felt able to compete against Gordon, neither as ally nor enemy. 

 

“Yes.”

 

“I only came back to help him save this city, so I could take it for myself!” Edward declared. He was close, he knew it. The emphasis on himself over them was sure to be noticed by the observant Penguin. Oswald was close to breaking, Edward just needed to push a little further, and then he would have his confirmation. He would prove to himself once and for all that no one, not even Oswald, could ever truly love him. 

 

It might cost him his life. He knew that. But it was a price he was willing to pay, if need be. But no one -  _ no one _ had ever stayed once he’d gone too far. He couldn’t believe it, no matter how many times Oswald told him they were a team. He wouldn’t believe it until he saw it. Until he saw Oswald break and make his decision. Even if Edward already knew what that decision would be. Better push him into the betrayal now, he reasoned, than wait for himself to go too far on accident and find himself unexpectedly stabbed in the back. 

 

“We would be strong together. No one could stop us,” Oswald continued to refer to them together. He was so much more persistent than anyone else had been, except perhaps Myrtle - although Edward wasn’t sure if she should count.

 

Looking at his reflection instead of Oswald, giving off the most self-centered impression he could, Edward tonelessly replied, “Yeah. Perhaps.”

 

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Oswald appear to rub his leg. Edward knew what he was really doing though. He knew Oswald’s moves better than the back of his hand. He knew where Oswald kept his knives.

 

Finally. Finally, he had convinced Oswald that he was in it for himself alone. That he was not a willing partner in this game. He had pushed him past his breaking point, and now he may pay the price. Oswald cared more about ruling Gotham than he did about Edward. If he couldn’t rule with him, Oswald was surely thinking, then he’d simply have to eliminate the obstacle. Edward smiled at himself, equal parts proud and lonely.

 

“Let’s make a pact,” Oswald suggested, standing up with one hand well-concealed behind his back, “Here. And now. We will take what we want, from who we want, and we will suffer no fools.”

 

Edward at last turned to look at him, wanting to read his expressions as closely as possible. He knew he was imagining the unshed tears in his eyes. The trembling of his face, though, that was a clear indication of anger. 

 

“Together,” Edward finally said, raising a hand, “Shall we shake on it?”

 

He adjusted his own knife, concealed behind his back but blade not yet drawn. He would wait until the last possible moment to defend himself, if it came down to that. He suspected it would, but he would not act too soon. He had made that mistake before, and he refused to make it again. He would much prefer to be too late. If this was to be a repeat of the incident with Lee, then so be it. He preferred to die by Oswald’s hand anyways.

 

“Please,” Oswald said dismissively, “We’re brothers. A hug.”

 

Oswald’s face turned unreadable, and Edward knew the time had come. If Oswald wanted it to be a hug, then he needed the proximity. He intended to use the knife he’d pulled. Edward kept his mask firmly in place, refusing to acknowledge the pain he felt at being proven right. The longing he felt for Oswald to change his mind, to say he was forgiven, but to still hold him close.

 

“A hug it is,” Edward answered, finally opening his own knife. So be it.

 

They approached each other cautiously, before wrapping their arms around each other in an embrace, both knives raising in tandem. Edward felt the tip of Oswald’s blade digging into his back, just over his heart. He held his own poised in the air, angled down, ready.

 

He meant to stab first. He really did. Meant to show Oswald that he was no fool, that  _ he _ was ready. But as he held onto the man who had quite literally meant everything to him - both good and bad - he found himself hesitating. Could he really do this? Even if it cost him his life, could he? 

 

Everything felt so right when he was held so tightly by the other. Perhaps… perhaps he could be at peace, dying in Oswald’s arms. His eyes fluttered shut, preparing for whatever fate Oswald would deliver unto him, savoring the warmth of what was sure to be his last moments.

 

And then the unexpected happened.

 

The knife pressed to his back was removed. At first he thought it was to build momentum for the strike, but then Oswald’s grip on his back shifted, and he was pulled even closer. Oswald let out a sigh, stepping back, and Edward felt lighter than air.

 

He had pushed Oswald past his breaking point, and Oswald had done what no one else had ever done before: he’d accepted him, deepest flaws and all. As they broke apart, subtly pocketing their knives, Edward schooled his face back into something less sappy. It still wouldn't do for Oswald to discover his feelings. They needed to be partners in crime. Anything else would just get messy. Besides, it’s not like Oswald loved him, even if they were real friends. He chose Gotham over him, what else might rank higher?

 

“Life begins anew,” Oswald said, and Edward recalled his talk of butterflies and caterpillars, so early in their acquaintance. Choked up at Oswald’s failure to betray him as expected and the added kick of nostalgia, he gave a weak smile that grew into a stronger one as he said, “Shall we get to work?”

 

Oswald nodded, and they headed over to the desk to plot.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not the strongest ending, I know, but I'd love to write a follow-up chapter with an actual love confession/getting together plot. Unfortunately, I have two weeks and five essays left before the end of the semester, so I wanted to at least post this much. I don't have a solid idea for where to go next though, so if there's anything anyone would like to see in terms of a sequel, feel free to leave suggestions in the comments. Other comments are, of course, welcome, too!


	2. Second Chances (Aren't Always Enough)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the next part of this story, featuring a good deal more nygmobblepot, pining, and angst. Enjoy ;)
> 
> (fyi there is some mature content in this chapter. it's brief and mostly vague, but it's there)

The night had grown late without their realizing it. Everything was so close to finished, so close to perfect, that stopping before it was done hadn’t even crossed their minds. 

 

Oswald held the match closer, waiting for the wick to catch fire, before holding it up to his face. His green eyes looked nearly black, the light flickering where it reflected off them as Edward stared, captivated. Then Oswald brought his lips together in an ‘o’ and blew it out. The Penguin could do anything elegantly, at least in Edward’s eyes. 

 

“Well,” Oswald said in the stillness that followed, “That was the last of them. We’re done.”

 

Edward continued to stare at Oswald in all his magnificence. 

 

“What do you think, Ed?” he asked.

 

“Hmm?” Edward replied, distracted enough to be unsure of what Oswald meant.

 

“The Lounge, Eddie. What do you think?”

 

“Oh, um,” he flushed, looking around to take in the magnificence of the Lounge they’d spent the last six months designing and then building, “It’s gorgeous. I mean, glorious. I mean, both.”

 

He swallowed hard, getting his bearing before trying again, “Every person in Gotham will want to spend their evenings here, and no person could stand among all this majesty and not be in awe of its master.”

 

Oswald smiled at him, a warm yet knowing smile that seemed to be reserved especially for Edward. Edward loved it almost as much as he loved Oswald, not that the other man knew that.

 

“Then it’s perfect,” Oswald told him, “Of course, I knew it would be. Between the two of us, how could it not be? You’ve been such a great help. I couldn’t have done anything half so wonderful without that brilliant brain of yours.”

 

Edward stood a little straighter at the praise, still eager to please despite his constant words to the contrary.

 

“What do you say we celebrate our accomplishments with a drink? The Iceberg Lounge stocks only the best,” Oswald offered. Edward certainly wouldn’t turn down  _ more _ time with him. He had been worried about seeing him less once the Lounge was complete. Oswald would set up shop in his office while Edward ran amok in the streets of Gotham. Together, yet alone. If this was to be their last night of working physically side by side, then Edward never wanted it to end.

 

“I like grasshoppers,” he suggested. Oswald rolled his eyes, “I’ve got something a bit stronger than that in mind. Some real quality stuff. Stay here, I’ll be back in a moment.”

 

Edward did as he was told, taking the moment to better take in the newly rebuilt Iceberg Lounge without Oswald to distract him. It truly was magnificent, with high vaulted ceilings, a circular feature of a window, and dazzling blue and silver lights. The floor was made of frosted glass that gave an illusion of ice, while towering ice sculptures (with no one inside) surrounded a crystalline fountain that served as centerpiece. Each table wove delicacy and strength effortlessly together, and sported a candelabra that created a dazzling effect of flickering fire reflected off frosty surfaces. Above everyone, opposite the large window, was an office from which the Penguin could watch his patrons without fearing being watched in return. Two elegant yet sturdy staircases wound their way up to the office on either side, while a secret elevator ran from the office down to the even more secret basements beneath. Edward had been the one to design the elevator, pitching it as an escape route while privately hoping it would encourage Oswald to put less strain on his bad leg. Combined with his newly acquired eye injury, that leg made stairs - especially curved one - quite dangerous. 

 

“Here we are,” Oswald said as he returned, a bottle of golden liquid in his hand, “One of the most expensive things we stock.”

 

“What is it?” Edward asked dubiously as he accepted the glass Oswald poured for him. He’d never been a fan of drinks that weren’t green.

 

“Cognac,” Oswald answered, “Imported from France. This particular bottle cost around seven thousand dollars.”

 

Edward nearly dropped the glass. He still wasn’t used to the kind of money this lifestyle allowed. Seven thousand dollars still meant nearly a year’s rent to him. Oswald barely noticed, busy pouring himself a glass and raising it, “To our future endeavors and our newfound partnership: may both be everlastingly prosperous.”

 

Edward raised his own glass, hesitantly drinking the liquid. It was surprisingly good, although by the time he’d finished his first glass, he was already starting to feel lightheaded. He and Oswald sat at one of the tables, chatting nearly mindlessly about what they planned to do next, what they liked best about the Lounge, what they wanted most… 

 

Oswald kept pouring drinks, and when Edward was three glasses in, he felt suitably drunk enough to give in to honesty. 

 

“What do  _ you  _ want most?” Oswald asked after he had finished detailing the long list of things he would like to do to Gotham. Edward told himself to say something about a lair and a deathtrap, but he was too far gone to lie. Instead, he leaned over the table - bumping his knees against it in the awkwardness of it all - and did his very best to kiss the Penguin where he sat.

 

He wasn’t quite sure what happened next, but somehow he ended up in Oswald’s lap. He hoped it would become a permanent thing; this had to be his new favorite seat. Oswald’s arms wrapped around behind him, pulling him in for more sloppy kisses as Edward ran his own hands over any part of Oswald he could find. This was absolutely what he wanted. Who knew all it took to get it was some mind-bendingly expensive alcohol?

 

When Oswald had pulled back to hoarsely say, “The couch in my office can become a bed,” as if that were a question, Edward nearly died in his rush to assure him that his answer was an enthusiastic, “Yes!”

 

Somehow they made it up to the office and pulled out the bed. Edward remembered falling back onto it, absent-mindedly thinking it was comfier than any couch-bed he’d slept on before, less springs poking into his back. He remembered something that absolutely wasn’t a spring poking his leg as Oswald climbed on top of him. He even remembered some of what followed. He remembered Oswald asking him if he was sure, if he’d done anything like that before. He remembered Oswald being so careful with him, making sure he was good and ready, before  _ taking _ him. And he remembered the way Oswald had whispered words of praise and encouragement to him, told him how wonderful he felt, how  _ good _ he was…

 

The only thing he didn’t remember, really, was when Oswald left the next morning. He had panicked at first, thinking that Oswald had abandoned him. That he would never see the man again. Of course, that wasn’t entirely logical, considering it was  _ Oswald’s _ office he was currently lying in. He had never been more grateful for their decision to make the large wall of glass between Oswald’s office and the lounge a two-way mirror instead of just a window when he stood up only to remember his clothes were currently strewn about the room.

 

As he’d gotten his clothes together, he’d finally seen it: the dark purple piece of stationary paper sitting on the end table beside the bed. He snatched it up, heart pounding as he waited to read what judgement Oswald had cast over their - their -  _ whatever _ the last night had been. 

 

_ Dear Ed, _

 

_ I fear I am at a loss for what to say to you this morning. I believe that some things are much better said in person, but you looked so peaceful that I dared not disturb your sleep. I fear you do not get as much as you should. I have some business that I must attend to today, but I will return to the Lounge for dinner, around 7 o’clock. If you, like myself, believe there is a conversation between us that ought to be had, I implore you to join me then. _

 

_ Oswald _

 

Edward read and reread the letter, but it gave nothing away. Oswald clearly had  _ something _ to tell him - something that no doubt connected to the previous night, but was it good or bad? Was he going to confess his love or reject him outright? Edward clutched the letter to his chest. 

 

Seven O’Clock? He glanced at the clock on Oswald’s desk proclaiming the time to be half past ten in the morning. Perfect. That gave him around eight hours to get cleaned up and find something to wear. He needed to look his best, whether Oswald was planning on ravishing or refusing him. After all, both those results would lead to a need for Edward to do some seduction.

 

He headed out, mind focused on recalling which stores had been rebuilt and where he should go to get a new suit. He didn’t notice the tail until it was too late.

 

“Edward Nygma, you’re under arrest.”

 

Edward froze, looking around like a trapped animal. There were cops on every side. He was stuck.

 

Jim Gordon walked forward, gun out and aimed at him as if he were any semblance of threat in his current state. Edward cursed himself for not being more of one.

 

“Jimbo,” he tried to smile, knowing he couldn’t talk his way out of this but determined to give it his best shot anyways, “How nice to see you. I hear you’re the commissioner now? I always knew you had it in you.”

 

“Hands behind your head, Nygma,” Jim said, as if Edward were, once again, some  _ common _ criminal. Edward complied. He had no choice. He hadn’t thought to arm himself with more than a knife this morning. He was still in Diamond District, after all - how dangerous could it be?

 

Plenty, apparently, if the new commissioner of the GCPD had decided not to honor the pardons of the criminals he liked least. 

 

“What exactly are you arresting me for?”

 

“There’s a list,” Jim shrugged, “I’m sure you’ll be off to Arkham in no time.”

 

Edward let out an involuntary shudder at the thought of going back to that place, and for a brief moment, he considered trying to fight. A quick death in the streets might be preferable…

 

But no, Oswald was still out there, somewhere. He hated to think that he would miss dinner with him  _ again _ . What if Oswald  _ had _ been planning to confess? It would be like that night all over again, breaking the heart of the man he loved. Except this time he really wouldn’t be to blame. Oswald would learn of his demise with the morning news, and he would come and get Edward out as soon as possible. If he could just keep his cool, Edward knew he would be out in a month at the latest. He could manage that.

 

So he calmly followed the police, doing as he was told, letting them manhandle him into a police car. He was compliant at the precinct, then at his brief and frankly rushed trial. He was positively obedient as the nurses led him to his cell. 

 

It was when the news broke three days into his stay at Arkham that he flipped.

 

“Did you hear? The Penguin’s pardon was revoked. He’s been arrested!”

 

Edward’s heart sank like a rock.

 

“The Penguin? You’re certain?” he interrogated the gossiping guard, who turned to him with a disgusted face, “Yes, Nygma. I’m certain. Some of us know how to distinguish reality from falsehoods.”

 

Edward pursed his lips, “If I were you, I wouldn’t speak that way to me once Oswald arrives.”

 

The guard just raised one of her eyebrows at him, “What do you mean?”

 

“I’m under Penguin’s protection,” Edward spelled out as if for a child, “He will make short work of Arkham, mark my words, and if you insult me again, he’ll have you killed.”

 

“Penguin’s not going to Arkham,” the guard said, as if  _ Edward _ were the idiot, “He’s not insane. Just a criminal. He got ten years in Blackgate.”

 

There was a moment of quiet as the news sank it, and then Edward had thrown anything he could get his hands on, trashing the community room as best he could. He was still screaming as they dragged him back to his cell.

 

“NO! THEY CAN’T! IT’S NOT FAIR!” he yelled as they slammed the door shut. He collapsed to his knees, the reality that he was trapped in Arkham for the foreseeable future, nothing but a psycho to the rest of the world, registering. A tear fell on the concrete in front of him, and he reached up to wipe at his eyes as he let out one last, broken, “ _ No. _ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hahaha and here I said the second part was going to be fluff and love confessions. 
> 
> Yes, I am planning on a third (probably final) piece of this that takes place after the events of the finale. 
> 
> Comments are, as always, welcome.


	3. Finally, Not Finale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A brief recap of the finale from Ed's perspective and the scene immediately following.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is pretty brief, tbh, but I wanted to get it out while I was still riding the emotions of the finale. I hope it's satisfactory for everyone!

Edward had had one roller coaster of a day. He was exhausted physically, mentally, and emotionally. When he’d woken up that morning, he’d been in the same cell he’d occupied for the better part of ten years. Life was dull. He was rotting away in Arkham, surrounded by all manner of sadistic criminals - and worse, idiots. 

 

The first thing that had broken his routine was the newspaper. Being able to read one over a guard’s shoulder was rewarding enough, but when he’d dropped his attempt at looking tough in the shock of emotions over Oswald’s imminent release, he had an even better feeling. But then, would Oswald remember him? Would he even care? That conversation they’d never had weighed heavily on Edward’s mind, especially since the memory of their one night together sometimes felt like the only thing keeping him, well,  _ sane _ . 

 

Then he’d been kidnapped. When he’d woken up, it was to a few crates of C-4, a letter from Oswald with instructions to follow, and his beloved bowler. He’d rushed to do whatever Oswald asked of him, only to be thwarted by a pair of women he’d once had a least a little respect for. But his recaptured status lasted for only a brief while before none other than Oswald Cobblepot himself had come to his rescue. 

 

In that limousine, Edward was beside himself taking in Oswald’s new look. He was drop dead gorgeous, looking more handsome even than Edward remembered. And then he had learned that whoever had ordered him to kidnap the mayor, it wasn’t Oswald.

 

But just as that conversation had settled, and Edward was about to broach the subject of the talk they’d never had, something large and heavy dropped on the roof of the limo. They’d vacated it, searching for the threat, only to see the intimidating figure of a man dressed as a… bat?

 

Edward clutched Oswald, wanting desperately to be held both from his fear and his desire. It did no good, of course. Who or whatever that thing was, it strung them up from a lamppost. The indignity of it! Edward was mad about it on his own behalf, yes, but the thought that someone had the audacity to do such a thing to the  _ Penguin _ made him furious. How dare they disrespect the King of Gotham in that way?

 

Finally, though, finally the day had ended. They’d broken free from the van and dodged the shadow of that  _ thing _ that had appeared to take Gotham away from them. Oswald had explained to him how he’d had a back-up plan in place, ways to keep pulling Gotham’s strings from Blackgate. The Lounge was the hottest club in the city, and it was all ready for him to take back the reins. His empire had sprung up stronger than ever, to the bafflement of the GCPD. 

 

Edward followed him when Oswald headed back towards the club. They still hadn’t talked about that night, about where they stood with each other. At the very least, Edward was confident that Oswald cared about him in some way. He had rescued him more than once, had been worried about him, and had been so unabashedly happy to see him. It stirred a feeling of hope in Edward’s chest that hadn’t been there in approximately a decade. 

 

“Do you have a place to stay?” was the first thing Oswald asked him when they finally arrived at his office.

 

“I,” Edward paused, giving it some thought, “No, I don’t think so.”

 

“Then you’re welcome to stay with me. If, if you want to, of course,” Oswald stumbled after his confident opening, and Edward wondered if he was just as nervous as he was. 

 

“Thank you,” Edward replied, “I - I’d like that.”

 

“Good,” Oswald said, pouring himself a drink, “I mean, I’m glad you still consider me a friend?”

 

Edward froze. Was that a hint? Did Oswald want them to go on as friends, pretending that night had never happened? That there was nothing else between them?

 

“I - yes, I suppose I do,” he replied weakly.

 

“Do you want something?” Oswald asked over his own glass. Edward took a deep breath. Here was an opening. It wasn’t quite a riddle, but the words he uttered next would certainly be a puzzle for Oswald to unravel, for that was the only way Edward knew how to communicate the things that mattered most to him. 

 

“I’d be open to some cognac, if you have it,” Edward said, “I quite enjoyed it last time.”

 

Oswald also seemed to freeze, glass halfway to his parted lips.

 

“I do have some, I believe,” Oswald eventually answered, “If you’re sure that’s what you want?”

 

“Only if you want it, too,” Edward countered, likely revealing his hand. It would be worth it, though, to finally learn whether Oswald would ever see him like that again.

 

“Please forgive me,” Oswald said, “If I’ve misread the situation.”

 

Before Edward could ask what he meant, Oswald had wrapped his hand around Edward’s tie and all but  _ yanked _ him down into a bruising kiss. Edward brought his arms up, clinging to Oswald and trying to pull him even closer. Maybe if they were pressed as close against each other as possible, no one would be able to separate them again. God, Edward hoped so.

 

“I was afraid it was just the alcohol that made you agree to do it,” Oswald told him as they headed towards the same couch-bed they’d used ten years ago, “I’ve been worrying that you hated me for years. Jim showed up on my doorstep just as I was setting out dinner. I thought he was you, at first. I didn’t know what had happened to you for awhile. Not until my network was in place. I wish I could’ve been the one to get you out of that hellhole, Eddie. I should have been there for you.”

 

“You have been, Oswald,” Edward told him as they collapsed into the bed, still desperate to feel as much of each other as possible, “You’ve done so much for me. And I’ve spent the past ten years worrying that what you wanted to tell me was that it was a mistake. I just - I don’t care about the past. Not right now. I just need to feel you and know you’re mine and I’m yours and you aren’t going to leave me.”

 

“Not ever again,” Oswald swore, even though they both knew it wasn’t the sort of promise he could actually guarantee. 

 

“I love you,” Edward added, and Oswald paused, eyes going wide as he stared at him. Edward gasped sharply, “Did I say that out loud?”

 

Oswald nodded.

 

“I - I - ”

 

“I love you, too,” Oswald interrupted.

 

“You do?”

 

“Of course,” Oswald brought a hand down to gently caress his face, cupping his cheek in his palm, “I always have. And I always will.”

 

Edward could think of no better response than to surge up and kiss him harder. They had ten years to make up for after all. 

 

Luckily for them, it looked like they’d have the rest of their lives to do just that.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so here's the plan: Since I made this canon compliant, this will be my new jumping off point for a continuation of Gotham, however I so choose (since I never did get around to writing my own Season Five like I planned). I have no long-term plan for it, it just serves as my canon compliant universe. 
> 
> What this means is that the completion status of this fic will constantly change. If a new chapter is part of an incomplete arc, the fic will be marked incomplete. If a new chapter is self-contained or completes an arc, it will be marked complete. I'll just keep adding on as long as keep having new ideas. I may also switch and make it a series if I decide that would be better. For now, this is the end of the first little arc (getting together), but keep an eye out for more chapters whenever I'm inspired to write canon-compliant post-series stuff!
> 
> And, of course, comments are welcome


End file.
